Through The Good And The Bad And The Ugly
by Precisely-My-Point
Summary: "Gross not," the little girl counters and sticks out her tongue, "oh oh! Can you tell us your own princess story Grandma? With Abuela." Futurefic spanning from when Brittany and Santana were five year olds all the way up to seventy-five year olds.


_**Disclaimer:**__Title (and inspiraiton) from __Forever and Always by Parachute. I wish and wish but the truth is I don't own anything Glee related apart from a few CDs, a poster and old tickets to their concert._

_Just a warning, the ending is happy but somewhere nearish to the end, it gets sort of sad (to the point where I teared up a little when I was writing it, but I'm really pathetic and cry really easily, so don't let that put you off!)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Seventy-five years old<em>

As she sits there in the armchair in the warm living room, Brittany smiles tiredly while she watches her three grandchildren in front of her sing and dance to a popular Christmas song that's in the charts, playing on the TV. She's long since stopped trying to keep up with the ever changing music.

The song comes to an end as the kids strike their final poses, wide grins on their faces as they soak in the attention from their parents who sit on the couch, clapping and cheering. Despite the almost constant fatigue that she feels nowadays, Brittany smiles affectionately and brings her hands together too.

"That was wonderful," Sugar praises as she taps the empty spot to her right.

The youngest child, Ali, immediately breaks away from her siblings and all but throws herself onto the couch, wrapping her mother's arms around herself. Feeling left out, Annabel, the only blonde child, worms her way in between her parents, squeezing in between them as her dad, Jeremy, chuckles deeply, shuffling apart more to let her in.

"You three are almost as good as I was when I was your age – right mom?"

The family turns to look at Brittany expectantly in synchronize and the sight of their collectiveness only makes Brittany smile more, her wrinkles giving away how much she's been doing that for all of her life.

"Well…" Brittany starts and looks away purposefully.

"Are you suggesting that I wasn't an entertaining singer?" Sugar asks, feigning shock as her children giggle around her.

"Oh you were definitely _entertaining_ to say the least dear," she teases back.

Everyone laughs as Sugar pretends to huff. Brittany takes a moment to pull the blanket out from where she's leaning on it as a pillow, but when she looks back up; her oldest and only grandson is right in front of her.

The familiarity of the shape of his eyes and the dark chocolate color makes Brittany falter for a second before she recovers.

"Can I sit on your lap, Grandma?" Adriano asks shyly. He likes to be the older, protective big brother but in situations like these, Brittany is reminded that he's only a young child of nine and a half still.

"Adriano," Sugar calls out, "let grandma-"

"No no," Brittany interrupts, shaking her head, "it's quite all right, I'm not that old. All that dancing when I was young hasn't really benefited my hip, but its fine right now. Up you get young man."

Beaming, he takes the invitation and scrambles into Brittany's lap, wary not to hurt her on his way up. He's growing all the time and soon, he'll be too tall and too embarassed to do this anymore so once he's settled himself in nicely, Brittany wraps the blanket around them both as Adriano lays his head on her shoulder.

"Merry Christmas Grandma," he mumbles as he gazes at the bright lights of the Christmas tree.

"Merry Christmas to you too darling," she returns, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

"So not fair," Ali suddenly exclaims, jumping to her feet and stomping it on the carpet, "I wanna sit on grandma's lap too."

"Stop sulking Ali," Annabel chips in, "you's such a little girl."

Disregarding the fact that Annabel is only two years older than the six year old, Brittany could have sworn that the smirk on Annabel's face is exactly the same as the one she's seen for the whole of her life.

"I'm not! Mom! Annabel's picking on me!"

Before Sugar or her husband can intervene, Brittany pats on the armrest of the chair she's sitting in.

"Come on, Ali, there's plenty of room here."

Instantly cheering up, the tiny girl bounces her way happily over but upon the sight, Annabel quickly pulls away from her father.

"I wants to sit with grandma too!" She announces before running over, almost toppling into the Christmas tree but she's still too late since her sister has taken residence on the armrest and her brother is leaning against the other one.

Upon the sight of her upset grandchild who plops down in front of her, Brittany leans forward carefully so as to not to send the other two flying to the ground but so that she can still whisper in Annabel's ear.

"You have the best seat Annabel, now I can look directly at you when I talk," she explains in a hushed voice.

When Brittany pulls back, there's a large grin on Annabel's face as she winks adorably at her grandma as if they have a secret between them.

"What did you say to her?" Adriano asks curiously when he catches the wink, "I want to know."

"Don't be nosy," Annabel taps the side of her nose to further prove her point.

"Now I want to know too," Ali whines, shuffling around so that she's underneath the blanket too, "Grandma – tell me, tell me please."

"No! Don't do it Grandma."

"Please, please, please," Ali begs, "I wanna hear."

The three adults laugh at how much the youngest child moans all the time over every little thing.

"Why don't I tell you a story instead?" Brittany suggests, steering away the topic successively when the children all nod and agree happily, "so what do you want to hear?"

"Tell us a story you heard when you was a kid," Annabel recommends as she crosses her legs on the floor, pulling the edge of the blanket over her lap.

"Tell us a princess story," Ali proposes.

"No ew," Adriano shakes his head, "that's so gross."

"Gross not," Ali counters and sticks out her tongue, "oh oh! Can you tell us your own princess story Grandma? With Abuela."

Upon the mention, Brittany freezes and in the corner of her eye, she can see Sugar and her husband exchange cautious looks to one another.

"Sweetheart," Ali's father interjects softly, "I'm sure your grandma has other stories."

"But I want to hear-"

"Ali."

The little girl flinches slightly at Sugar's warning tone.

"No, no it's… all right, Sugar."

"But Mom-"

"I'm okay," Brittany lets out a shaky breath and draws courage from the fresh faces of her grandchildren, "I'm okay," she repeats more strongly.

"You don't have to," Sugar reminds her gently, wringing her hands in an all too familiar fashion to Brittany.

"I want to," she confirms and smiles with a nod, "I can."

Sugar is about to try to convince her again but her husband places a reassuring hand on her thigh and simply nods. Resigning, Sugar slumps back into the couch before smiling weakly back.

"So then," Brittany turns back to her grandchildren, her heart warming at their eager faces, "where should I start?"

"From the beginning," Ali states before cuddling up closer, ready for the story.

Brittany closes her eyes briefly but in her head, she sees the exact same image as when her eyes are open. Her grandkids are surrounding her; the Christmas tree is glowing in front of her with piles and piles of presents underneath. The only difference from the vision in her mind and reality is that Santana is leaning against the wall next to the tree. It isn't the weak, frail Santana lying vulnerably on the harsh hospital bed that she sees, no, it's the strong, in-her-prime Santana in her late-twenties who stands there, arms crossed with a laid back expression.

In her mind, Santana gives her an encouraging nod.

As soon as Brittany opens her eyes, everyone remains but the one most important person who's been the cause to all of this. Brittany's heart pangs at the loss but she smiles to herself anyway because lately she keeps sensing Santana's presence more and more – every time she sleeps Brittany sees her and sometimes Brittany even hears that beautiful voice singing to her in the wind.

She knows that it'll be soon, very soon, that she'll be fully reunited with her Santana – any day now. Brittany has never looked forward to something more.

* * *

><p><em>Five years old<em>

Five has always been Brittany's favorite number. She's currently five years old. She has five fingers on her left hand, five on her right and even five toes each on her feet. She has two other sisters and with her mommy and daddy too, there are five of them. It's the most magical number if you ask her.

Right now, she's supposed to be learning how to write her own name but 'Brittany' has more than five letters (and it's really hard to write too) so instead, she just scribbles 'Britt' over and over again in her blue crayon. To her right, Santana, her best friend (who's she known for five years too), stops writing out her own lengthy name to look over at Brittany's work.

"Brittany," she hisses, eying over to the teacher on the opposite side of the room, "you's cheating."

"Am not – that's my name."

Santana sighs in a way that she's seen her parents do all the time although she isn't entirely sure why. She lays her left arm over Brittany's right and using her own red crayon, she finishes all of the names off for her. Once she's done Santana smiles proudly as she moves her arm back so that Brittany can look at how her name should be written.

"But I don't get it," Brittany admits, tilting her head in confusion as she stares at the page, "I'm Britt. I'm not 'any' old Britt so why should I be Britt'any'? Tell me I'm specialer than that Santana."

"'Course you are Britt-Britt," Santana reassures, patting her friend on the hand, "but only the cool ones can have 'an' in their names. Like Sant'an'a, see?"

"Can I be cool?" Brittany asks excitedly, wanting so desperately to be similar to her best friend.

"You are cool," Santana assures and grins toothily.

"Cool," Brittany beams back, twisting her crayon about in her hand, "what about the others?"

"No one else," Santana quickly establishes, shaking her head furiously, "all the boys are super gross."

"Eww, I know," Brittany agrees, scrunching her nose at the sight of that Finn boy trying to stick booger on his friend on the other side of the room, "what about the girls then?"

Pausing, Santana contemplates for a moment. She carefully places down her crayon and looks around the room.

"Rachel is annoying and Lauren is fat. Mercedes is whiney, that Lucy girl is sort of weird and I don'ts think Tina can actually speak so no, no one else."

"Okay so just the two of us?" Brittany questions, her excitement levels rising at just the mere thought.

"Yeah," Santana confirms and nods straightaway.

"Pinky promise then," Brittany holds out her little finger, "pinky promise it'll just be me and you who stay cool for like, forever."

Santana reaches out to wrap her own one around Brittany's without hesitation.

"I pinky promise you and me forever."

* * *

><p><em>Seventy-five years old<em>

"Aw that's so cute Grandma!" Ali gushes, her head held in her tiny hands.

"So you've known Abuela for like three hundred years?" Adriano asks curiously.

Brittany flinches at the accidental present tense he uses, but she covers it with a chuckle smoothly.

"I know it may seem like I'm ancient but I'm not quite that old, my dear," she states, running a hand through his short curls fondly, "but yes, our parents were good friends so your Abuela and I, pretty much knew each other almost at birth."

"That's so cute Grandma," Annabel repeats after her sister, she throws back her hair over her shoulder, "is that why you married Abuela? Because boys are super gross?"

"Hey!" Adriano exclaims offended, "that's mean."

"But it's true," Annabel states with a look of disbelief that her brother can possibly think differently.

"It's more complicated than that," Brittany interrupts before a big 'girl vs. boys' debate can erupt, "you'll understand when you're-"

"Older," Annabel finishes and rolls her eyes in a way that brings Brittany back to her younger years, "we know Grandma, but why does everything have to become clear later? I wants to get my learning on now."

Without a thought, Brittany recognizes the accent and the wording straight away. In her peripheral, she can see a figure leaning on the wall again and she can hear a light snickering, but as soon as she turns her head, Santana is gone once more, the only sounds being made are from the TV that continues to play on in the far corner quietly.

"You're just like your Abuela, Annabel," Brittany informs with a tired smile.

"Really?"

The young girl beams brightly, whole facing lighting up at the prospect when her grandma nods.

"Absolutely, she was always so fierce and so stubborn, demanding everything to go her way."

* * *

><p><em>Fifteen years old<em>

Stirring in her sleep, Brittany scrunches at the awful smell that invades her senses. She twists around on the comfy bed, the sheets entangling around her legs as she flips to face the other side. Reaching out a hand, Brittany expects to find her best friend in a deep slumber since Santana and her are having a sleepover after all. Her hand falls on the relatively cool mattress instead of a warm body that Brittany increasingly can't get enough of touching that soft skin. She's not entirely sure why to be honest, she's kissed Santana before – many times actually – but to be fair, she's kissed many other people, boys and girls, yet she doesn't quite have the same desperate need to be permanently attached to them like she feels with Santana all the time.

"Santana?" she croaks out, voice husky from her early moments of consciousness.

"Just a second."

Brittany struggles with her fatigue for a moment before she manages to crank open one eye, wincing slightly at the bright early morning light beyond Santana who's perched on the window still, all but leaning out of it. Brittany's body jerks upright instinctively, adrenaline and worry that the other girl might fall out jolting her awake.

"What are you doing…?" Brittany trails off as her eyes land on the long, thin object in between Santana's fingers.

She tries to hide the cigarette behind her but its too late; Brittany has seen it and now sits there with a disappointed look on her face.

"Santana."

She flinches at the let down tone laced with upset.

"I'll be done in a second," she mumbles sheepishly.

Rubbing a hand against the back of her neck, Santana wants to take another inhale badly but with Brittany right there, staring at her so disapproving, Santana can't bring herself to do it.

"Santana…"

"Go back to sleep, it's still super early. I'll wake you when mom's made breakfast – she's making pancakes today," Santana informs, trying to divert Brittany's attention with no luck.

"As much as I really want pancakes – home made blueberry pancakes with syrup and that cup of yours that looks like a strawberry, full of hot chocolate with two marshmallows – I can't go back to sleep knowing that you're here trying to kill yourself."

"Really?" Santana laughs and stares at the cancer stick in her hand, unable to see the harm it can inflict.

"Yes really," Brittany nods stubbornly and swings her legs to the side of Santana's bed so that she can stand up, "when did you even start to smoke?"

"I don't get what the big deal is," Santana shrugs as casually as she can pretend to be, "it's not like you've never seen me smoke at parties before."

"That's different," Brittany argues as she stretches her arms, fully aware that Santana watches her as she does so, "that's all 'hey look at how cool I am' but this is just 'hey don't look, I'm being secretive and withdrawn – again.'"

Despite looking away sharply in guilt, Santana absent-mindedly wraps her arm around Brittany's waist when she slides closer.

"It comforts me you know?" Santana confesses as Brittany gently rests her chin on the top of Santana's head, long pale arms wrapping around her neck contentedly.

"Don't I comfort you?"

"Of course you do," Santana assures automatically.

"But if you have this," Brittany pauses to squeeze her friend tightly, "then why do you need that?" she finishes by gesturing to the cigarette still burning away in Santana's other hand.

Leaning back, Brittany watches emotions fly through Santana's eyes and almost-words being formed by her mouth, only to be swallowed back. Frowning lightly, Brittany waits patiently for Santana to formulate an answer. She's never really understand why Santana is so guarded all the time, life isn't hard to Brittany (although math definitely is) and for someone who's so clever, someone that Brittany loves and admires so much, Santana can be awfully dim sometimes.

Brittany keeps watching as walls start to creep up and it's clear that Santana can't give her a response – not now, not here. Not when they're only fifteen years old in a small dead-end town.

Deciding to demonstrate courage, in hopes that Santana will know that she can use some of Brittany's if she ever gets tongue-tied like this again, Brittany reaches over and plucks the tiny stick from her slacked hands.

"What are you doing?" Santana asks unnecessarily as Brittany lifts the cigarette to her lips.

Taking in a deep breath, Brittany fights the burning ache to cough. She's done this before twice but whoever invented the line '_third time lucky_' is a big fat liar because the taste is just as vile and her lungs are just as discomforted as the times before. She releases her breath slowly, but is unable to hold back the cough as Santana rubs her back soothingly.

"What are you doing?" Santana repeats with a light laugh and shakes her head.

"Well," Brittany scrunches her nose in disgust as she hands back the cigarette, "if you die, then I'm dying right with you so then when we get to heaven I can tell you I told you so and I'll be able to laugh at you and tell you how silly you are for the rest of forever."

She sticks her tongue out at Santana for good measure.

* * *

><p><em>Twenty-five years old<em>

"I'm going to do it. As soon as she gets home, I'll do it."

The speaker-phone is on as the phone lies on the coffee table but even though Quinn is there on the opposite side and can hear her, Brittany isn't really talking to her old friend. Instead, she's staring at the mirror on the living room wall of their apartment, looking into her own anxious blue eyes and repeating the words again and again to herself, half in frantic excitement and half in mind-numbing nervousness.

"_You do realize she's not going to say anything but yes, right?"_

Brittany watches the edges of her own lips twitch upwards before she turns to look at discarded phone.

"You never know," Brittany grins even though Quinn can't see it, "there might be an 'oh my god' thrown in, maybe a few 'fuck's and even a 'fuck yes'."

"_Well aren't you smart_," Quinn laughs good-humoredly.

"Yeah, she's been telling me that for years."

Sighing happily, Brittany throws herself down onto couch, hearing the crackling of the small bag of goodies she's hidden behind the pillow next to her. Just the sound of it makes Brittany break out into a wide grin again as she slaps her own thighs repeatedly, needing some form of release to let out all that anticipation swelling up inside of her.

"_Either way, I'm really hap-"_

"Oh shit, she's home, got to go, bye!"

Brittany hastily reaches forward and fumbles with the phone when keys can be heard jingling in the front door.

"_Good luck!"_

She manages to disconnect and all but lobs the device into the armchair away from her, just as the door swings open and Santana comes in, head down reading a piece of paper.

"Brittany, I'm home!" she calls out, eyebrows pinched together as she inspects whatever is written carefully.

Bounding to her feet, Brittany skips over to Santana and eases the handbag off of her shoulder. As she moves over swiftly to the bedroom, almost skidding over on the smooth wooden floor, to toss the handbag carelessly onto the bed, Brittany tries to remember that huge essay she had planned out to say but comes up blank.

_Not completely blank,_ she thinks, taking a moment to breathe in deeply in an attempt to somewhat calm herself, _'will you marry me' – I know that bit. Just talk Britt, you've always just talked to her and you can just talk to her now. Go. Go now. Do it._

Brittany all but sprints back out.

She spots Santana sitting in the armchair, still staring at the sheet with what looks like disbelief all over her face. Forcing herself to act normal, Brittany glides over to her and plops down on the couch, carefully this time so that the secret bag behind her doesn't rustle. Taking a moment to look at the wonderful person in front of her, Brittany can't quite believe that she hasn't done this earlier – about twenty years or so earlier.

Clearing her throat as a wave of joy washes over her, Brittany prepares herself for a lifetime of continued happiness.

"Santana-"

"Wait one sec," Santana interrupts, holding a finger up and finally actually looks at Brittany for the first time since she's entered the apartment, "just a quick question."

Brittany closes her mouth and clenches her lips together but nods feverishly anyways.

"Did you…?" Santana starts, giving Brittany a really odd look.

"Yeah?"

Frowning, Santana decides to simply lay the sheet of paper she's been so invested in, onto the coffee table in front of them and pushes it over. Brittany leans forward for a closer look and swivels it around so that she can read it. Once Brittany realizes that she is looking at is a bill, she practically feels her brain ready to shut off. Without reading the actual details, Brittany pushes it away, not wanting to fall asleep just before she's about to propose.

"What is it?" she questions curiously at her girlfriend who's still sitting there, staring at her incredulously.

Brittany scratches her chin self-consciously.

"What is it?" Santana repeats, her tone humored and taken aback, "what is- you tell me Britt-Britt."

Looking around the room, as if there might be clues as to what she's supposed to have done, Brittany searches her mind fruitlessly.

"…I'm sorry?" she offers weakly.

"Relax, I'm not mad," Santana laughs, the sound of fondness echoes around the apartment, "I just want to know how you spent over fifty dollars on sweets?"

Eyes widening in surprise, Brittany coughs and drums her fingers on the couch anxiously, trying her best not to glance towards the overflowing bag concealed secretly next to her. She twists a little in her seat so that she completely blocks Santana's possible line of view to it.

"I, err, have no idea what you're, umm, saying."

"Nice try but no," Santana smiles and pats Brittany's leg, "out with it then."

"I really-"

"Don't bother; I have the credit card bill right here and it clearly states that you brought a ridiculous number of packets of Haribo Starmixes at the Wallmart down the street," Santana leans back in the armchair, crossing her legs with an intrigued smirk on her face, "come on then, spill."

Groaning, Brittany pushes her face into her palms. How did she manage to forget that they have a shared account? Of course Santana would have seen her purchases. And to think that she had thought she was being secretive as well.

"You are a polar bear, Brittany, adapt to the environment," she mutters to herself before moving her hands and revealing her determined face, "okay, I got busted. Whatever."

Santana quirks an eyebrow up with an amused lazy smile but doesn't respond verbally, instead just nodding once supportively.

Brittany wants to stand up but she knows that if she does, she'll start pacing and that'll only fluster her even more so she forces herself to remain seated, even though she's sort of bouncing in her seat a little.

"It's just a question really. It's a simple question that, actually, isn't really a question at all because I already know your answer so surely it's more of a statement? But then again, I need a response so maybe it is a question," Brittany rambles, not uncomfortably but it's just that she's always felt free to say whatever comes into head to Santana and just because she's prepping up to this huge thing doesn't mean she doesn't feel safe and at ease around Santana.

"So anyways, I guess it's just a simple non-question question. It has two possible answers but really there's only one," Brittany hesitates, her brain whizzing too quickly for her to catch up with, "the right one. I hope. Oh god, what if you pick the wrong one? What if I-"

"Hey!" Santana shouts, waving a little to draw the other girl back, "this is starting to scare me a bit so for the love of god, keep going."

"Right, right sorry, keep going, okay, yep I can do that, totally, no problem, I can one hundred percent do keep-"

"Brittany!"

"I know we're not exactly rolling in it," she suddenly states, maintaining steady eye contact, "we dreamt big as kids and I know it's even harder than we imagined it'll be like, but hey, look at us, look at all this."

Santana follows Brittany's gesture and glances around their place. It isn't a deluxe apartment with a great view of the city and they don't have a fifty-inch television or amazing stereos. They live in a normal part of the city in an averaged-sized apartment and all the things inside are standard things, not always the best or top models but definitely not cheap either. In all honesty, it's all Santana ever wanted: to be normal.

"All the stuff we own is ours and that's a word I don't think I can ever get tired of – ours," Brittany smiles proudly and shuffles closer to the edge of the couch, "I know it seems sort of unnecessary. I know you like to make fun of it, when secretly; I know you totally love it. I know that there are so, so many things out there that I _don't_ know. That I wouldn't have known if you weren't there beside me, whispering it into my ear all these years."

Brittany pauses for breath as Santana slowly narrows her eyes, starting to get an inkling as to what all this might be about.

"So I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I want 'ours', I want 'we', I want 'us' and I want every single one of those kind of words – officially. Like, signatures on a bit of paper. Like family and friends we haven't seen in years turning up and handing over free gifts. Like waking up every morning and saying 'morning wifey'. And like coming home from work every day saying 'honey! I'm home!' That's the kind of official I want."

A drop of tear trickles down Santana's cheek and although Brittany wants to reach out and wipe it away, her hands are sort of shaking really badly and the last thing she wants is to turn up at hospital because she had accidentally poked Santana's eye.

Instead, Brittany twists around to grab the stuffed bag and rises to her feet.

"I brought all those Starmixes because I wanted, well."

Kneeling down right in front of Santana who sits there speechless, Brittany brandishes a pack of nothing but Haribo rings that took her over fifty dollars to buy and countless hours just sifting through every single pack and picking out the rings from each one. If she isn't so energized and distracted by the whole proposal thing, Brittany has half a mind to write a displeased letter to the Haribo Company to complain about the sheer lack of rings in each package.

"I ate more than a few but I actually saved up all the egg ones because I know how much you love them," Brittany comments, shuffling a little closer, "the rest went to a group of kids down at the park, though their parents did pull them away after a while and gave me really funny looks."

Santana laughs, despite the tears and sniffs a little, eyes glued to the full-to-the-brim bag that's presented right in front of her.

"You know you could have just brought those tubs that just have rings in them," Santana points out, her voice a little shaky, "would have been so much easier and cheaper too."

"I had a look at that but they said 'friendship rings' on the label," Brittany explains with a shake of her head, "and that's not what these rings represent. Well, not just friendship at least. Each one of these is an 'I love you', an 'I'm crazy about you', a 'damn, you look gorgeous today, every day' or just a plain 'please stop smoking already'."

Chuckling again, Santana wipes away the moisture on her face and takes a calming breath.

"Yeah?"

"Totally," Brittany nods and carefully places the bag on Santana's lap before taking out just one in particular, "and you want to know what this one is?"

Santana grins, both of them fully aware of what Brittany is about to say, so she nods confidently.

"It says… 'I'm cold – please stop stealing all the sheets'."

"Hey!" Santana exclaims, slapping Brittany lightly on the arm as they laugh together, "come on. I want to hear the words already."

"Okay, okay," Brittany waits for all her laughter to fade off before she looks up at Santana, nothing but devotion and promises floating between them, "this one says 'can you make me the happiest person?'. In fact this whole bag says, 'can you let me make _you_ the absolute most, happiest person ever' a million times over because there have got to be a million of these rings in there. Will you marry me, Santana?"

When Brittany first imagines how this scene can play out, she thinks of shocked gasps and hysterical crying and poetic serenade. So far, none of those have really come true but she doesn't really mind as she gazes expectantly at Santana whose staring right back at her, eyes welling up and sliding down her cheeks again.

"I love you," Santana nods once, twice, again and again and again, "I love you so, so much."

"Love me enough to say yes soon? My knees are starting to hurt and my feet are cramping a bit."

"Yes, Brittany yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

A weight she isn't aware of carrying lifts off of her chest and Brittany has to quickly glance down to check that her boobs are still there before she slides the gummy, yummy goodness onto the ring finger of Santana's extended hand. Before she can do or say anything, the package and the rest of the squidgy treats are flying in the air as Brittany is propelled backwards onto the hard, wooden floor from the force of Santana's body slam.

She knows they'll have to clean up all the mess in a while, but right then with Santana on top of her, kissing every inch of her face and repeating that simple three-lettered word into her skin, Brittany really can't care less.

* * *

><p><em>Seventy-five years old<em>

"Grandma, you're amazing. When I grow up, I wants to propose to someone just like that," Annabel announces proudly.

"But you'll just be copying Grandma – so unoriginal," Ali points out.

From the couch, Sugar shakes her head and squeezes Jeremy's hand once before standing up and switches off the TV before moving towards the kitchen.

"That's not true. When something's old but it's still a classic, it's called vinegar."

There's a slight break in the conversation before the children's father speaks out.

"I think you're talking about vintage, sweetie."

"Yeah, that," Annabel nods and grins smugly, "you won't get it, you's just a little girl."

"Stop saying that! Daddy, Annabel's being horrible again!"

While their father warns the middle child, Adriano rolls his eyes at how childish and petty both his sisters are before he tugs lightly at his grandma's hand to draw her attention.

"Grandma keep going, I want to hear the stories."

"Of course sweetheart, how about…" she stops to think as the sound of a kettle being turned on can be heard, "oh, how about stories of your mom when she was younger?"

The bickering sisters quiet down immediately, both of them twisting their heads quickly to look at Brittany with a renewed excitement and interest.

"I hope you know I can hear you still!" Sugar shouts from somewhere in the kitchen.

Brittany chuckles and notices that even her son-in-law is looking at her with anticipation.

* * *

><p><em>Thirty-five years old<em>

Running a finger down the list tacked onto the fridge, Brittany swirls a pencil in her other hand.

"Lunchbox?"

"Check," Santana answers, leaning onto the kitchen counter where objects are piled all over it.

"Orange juice?"

"Check."

"Pencil case?"

"Check, with everything newly sharpened in it too."

"Umbrella?"

"Check."

"But mommy," little Sugar in pigtails tilts her head in confusion as she stops eating her cereal to look out of the window, "it's sunny outside-"

"Raincoat?"

Santana grabs the clothing, wraps it into a small bundle before shoving it into the bottom of the tiny pink rucksack.

"Check."

"Gloves and scarf?"

"Check."

"Why do I need-?"

"Notebooks?"

Stacking up three books of varying sizes, Santana pushes it into the bag.

"A5, A4 and a planner – check."

"Mister Snuggleworths?"

Frowning, Santana holds the tiny teddy bear in one hand, as the other one forces more space into the cramp bag.

"There we go, check."

"Blackcurrant juice?"

"But you already put in orange-"

"Check."

"Apple juice?"

"Check."

"Why am I drinking so much-?"

"Two cartons of eggs?"

"Che- wait, what?"

"Oh sorry, I'm looking at the shopping list. Looks like we're done," Brittany announces proudly.

She swivels around to see Santana fighting with the zip of the backpack, struggling to close the overflowing bag while Sugar stares at both of her parents shell-shocked.

"What's wrong sweetie?" Brittany questions as she slides over to the kitchen table and sits down next to her daughter, "you scared? It's okay to be scared on your first day."

"I'm not scared," Sugar shakes her head, her pigtails slapping herself lightly on the face, "not of school."

"Oh…" Brittany blinks, slightly confused.

"Success!" Santana exclaims as she finally manages to pull the zipper shut.

"Are you scared of the other kids?" Brittany asks in concern, "because you really shouldn't be, I mean you already know everyone from pre-school and-"

"Not the kids," Sugar rolls her eyes in a distinctively miniature Santana-like fashion, "of you – of both of you."

"Hey now," Santana laughs and stands directly behind her wife to rest her chin on top of soft blonde hair, "what was that for?"

"What's all _that_," the little girl pauses to point right at her backpack, "for? Why do I need three juice cartons?"

"Well what if you want to orange juice at break then blackcurrant at lunch?" Santana questions back rhetorically, "what if one of your friends forgets their drink? Now, you can swoop in and give them one of yours. If you want. Okay, maybe half of yours to share. Just a sip. Actually, you know what-"

"But Mami," Sugar whines, pushing her breakfast away to clamber onto her feet, "I'm not going to be able to carry all of that – its super heavy."

To make her point, Sugar walks over to the counter and reaches up on her tiptoes to clasp at the edges of the straps but before she can pull it down, Santana places a hand over hers.

"Easy there, you'll hurt yourself, let me."

Santana waits until Sugar has stepped back before she tugs at the bag, but the backpack doesn't even budge in the slightest. Frowning, Santana yanks harder, only to nearly drop it from the sheer heaviness of the cramped full rucksack.

"See?" Sugar smiles far too smugly for a five year old to be able to do, "even Mami can't lift it, there's too much junk in it."

Coughing sheepishly, Santana heaves the weighty bag back onto the counter and rubs the back of her neck.

"Maybe two juice boxes are enough."

* * *

><p>"Here we are," Brittany points out needlessly as she parks the car outside the school office.<p>

"Okay, bye Mommy, bye Mami!"

From the passenger seat, Santana has to swiftly lean over Brittany to press the child-lock button before Sugar can try to open the backseat door and escape.

"Nice try kiddo," Santana smirks, "but we're walking you in there. We're going to hold both of your hands for all your little friends to see too."

"What? No please! I'm a big girl now, I can walk in myself."

"You're a big girl? Honey, it's your first day of kindergarten," Santana laughs but stops suddenly, facing falling into shock-horror, "oh my god, it's your first day of kindergarten."

"Santana…" Brittany calls out cautiously.

She slowly reaches a hand over to touch Santana's wrist but it's too late. As soon as she makes contact, Santana bursts into tears and leans over to sob into Brittany's shoulder.

Brittany pats her wife's back comfortingly and judging by how Sugar is sliding down further and further into her seat, Brittany can tell that their daughter is more than mortified and is all but praying for none of her friends to see her hysterical mom bawling her eyes out upon the sudden realization that she's growing up.

"You know what," Brittany starts tactfully, "baby, why don't you head off for school now?"

"No!" Santana shouts and pushes away from Brittany, "no you're not going anywhere. You're staying here with me. And you won't go to kindergarten, you won't become a high-schooler and go out to parties. You won't ever meet some guy, or girl, who'll you one day marry and leave me for. You won't! I won't allow it."

"Okay…" Brittany drawls, "honey, come give your Mami and I a kiss, then off you go sweetie."

"No! Don't go, don't go, please," Santana begs.

Not having to be asked twice, Sugar stands up in the car quickly and leans over to press two chaste kisses on her parent's cheeks. Brittany has to struggle to clasp onto Santana's wrists to prevent her from grabbing onto Sugar and never letting go. Ever. Using her elbow, Brittany smacks at the buttons until the child-lock is released and Sugar is finally free to get away.

"Bye! See you after school!"

Sugar bids goodbye hurriedly and jumps out of the car, pulling her much-lighter backpack with her before slamming it shut and all but sprints towards the sandpit where a few kids she knows from pre-school are playing and chatting.

"Hey guys," she greets cheerfully, gripping onto her bright pink straps tightly as the other kids look at her oddly.

"Why is your mom crying?" one of the girls that Sugar never really bothered learning the name of, asks.

In sync, the group of children all turns around and, although muted, they can all quite clearly see Santana still sobbing uncontrollably into Brittany's shoulder through the windshield. Sugar's face camouflages into the same color as the bag on her back.

"Because… because… my dog died," she lies, as she kicks the sand lightly.

The same little girl narrows her eyes and tilts her head as she recalls Sugar's birthday party at her house just a few months ago.

"But you don't have a dog."

"Well I really don't have one now!" Sugar yells.

She breaks down into tears, hoping that her own sobs can distract her friends from her embarrassing mom. The other girl panics and reaches out to hug her immediately as all the other children gather around her to give her comforting pats.

* * *

><p><em>Forty-five years old<em>

"There's a party at one of the footballer's house on Friday," Sugar announces over dinner, "I want to go."

Santana and Brittany exchange a look before Santana puts down her knife and fork to look at their fourteen year old daughter.

"You've started high school for what, three weeks? And you want to go out to a party already?"

"Four weeks which is a month actually," Sugar answer back smartly, "and all the cheerleaders and jocks are going."

"But you're not either, honey," Brittany points out, forehead furrowing as she reaches for her drink.

"Exactly! I didn't make it onto the cheerleading squad and if I don't go to the party, then I might as well as join the Glee club," Sugar complains, tossing her utensils onto the plate so it clatters noisily.

"Unnecessary," Santana scolds, gesturing at her plate, "and excuse me, your mom and I were both in the Glee club when we were in high school and we were still cool."

"But you were cheerleaders too," Sugar corrects exasperatedly, "please, I promise I won't get… well, _that_ drunk and I'll do all of my homework and whatever the night before."

"I'm sorry but you're just too young to start partying," Santana refuses firmly, shaking her head, "I know what goes on at those type of things all too well and I don't think it's appropriate for you at this age."

"What? You're such a hypocrite!" Sugar shouts, her inner-Lopez flaring up, "this is so crappy – both of you were doing this when you were my age!"

"Watch your language missy," Santana warns and narrows her eyes, "and it's because we did it, we don't want you to go down that route."

"That doesn't even make sense! Mom, please," Sugar begs, switching tactics.

"I'm sorry sweetie but I agree with your Mami. I mean its fun and great, but you're only fourteen."

"Why don't you ever trust me? I'm old enough to know better okay?"

"But honey, we're not saying that you can't ever-"

"I won't even be invited to the other parties if I don't go to this one," Sugar snaps back.

"The decision is final," Santana confirms, waving a hand in the air.

"But Mami!"

"I said no, Sugar."

"Oh my god!" Sugar shouts and jumps to her feet, her chair scraping across the floor, "you don't ever let me do anything! God, you're both so stupid!"

"In this family, we do not-"

"Well maybe I don't want to be in this stupid excuse of a family!" Sugar hesitates.

Words form in her head but despite her anger, she holds her tongue even though the harsh comment is pushing through, desperately wanting to be voiced.

"You do not ever say things like that, do I make myself clear?" Santana retorts, failing to keep her temper under check.

"Whatever, this isn't even a real family," Sugar blurts out, unable to hold back the spiteful implication.

The room drops into a ringing silence of shock as Sugar turns and sprints up the stairs, cursing under her breath at herself for her hurtful comment, all the way up to her room. When the bedroom door slams shut, the two left at the dining table snaps out of it before Santana moves into a standing position.

"Wait Santana," Brittany rises quickly and clutches Santana's elbow tightly, "stop, you know she didn't mean it."

"Oh didn't she?" Santana asks back, "we have come so far. Society has come so far, but that one sentence of hers just goes to show that nothing has really changed. Not even to our very own daughter, are we considered normal."

"It's not like that," Brittany pleas, tugging at Santana to sit back down to no avail, "things have changed, you know they have."

"But they haven't Britt, can't you see?" Santana sighs in frustration, "they can pass all their damn laws and they can hold their fucking parades every other day, but the truth is that they can't change people's minds and what they say to your face is nothing like what they really think."

"That's not true Santana, not for everyone-"

"I'm tired; I'm going for a smoke."

Brittany opens her mouth to deter her.

Despite years upon years of trying to dissuade Santana of her horrible habit, she's still smoking at least one packet every day. Santana blames the need on everything. There's nothing to do while waiting in traffic jams. It helps clear her mind and helps her think. Would Brittany really rather her turn to drinking instead? She's stressed from work. In fact, even when she's _not_ stressed from work, so surely that's something to celebrate over a cigarette. Or a few.

The familiar discouragement is at the tip of Brittany's tongue, but Santana looks up at her right at that moment. The rage is gone but copious amount of hurt swirls in Santana's eyes and with one look at Santana's distress, Brittany loses the heart to nag her tonight.

"Okay love," Brittany nods dejectedly, "I'll put the food away."

Smiling weakly, Santana leans in for a comforting kiss before moving through the kitchen to head out to the back yard. Sighing, Brittany shakes her head to herself before she starts packing away the increasingly cold dinner.

* * *

><p><em>Seventy-five years old<em>

"Mom, you were so mean," Adriano comments, disappointment laced in his voice.

"In my defense, I was a teenager," Sugar defends herself as she carefully places a tray balancing cups, biscuits and a pot of hot chocolate on it, onto the coffee table, "it was a silly thing to say and I regretted it immediately. I had Asperger's, so I used to say things, really nasty things that I didn't actually mean."

"Oh really?" Brittany laughs and looks at her daughter pointedly, "what about that time you got into a fight for telling someone they looked like an inbred of two pit-bulls?"

"She laughed at my singing," Sugar explains and rolls her eyes as she pours out six cups of hot chocolate, "now who wants hot chocolate?"

Ali all but bounces off straight away, eyes lighting up at the sight of the sweet, warm liquid. Chuckling lightly at her eagerness, Brittany helps Adriano back onto his feet as he also heads over to his parents.

"Should I get you yours, Grandma?" Annabel offers helpfully, "I know your hip hurts a lot when you get up and stuff."

"That would be so kind of you."

Smiling, the young girl hops upright and carefully takes a cup from the tray before walking back with utmost concentration, focusing on not letting the hot liquid slosh about too much.

"Thank you sweetie," Brittany says as she takes the drink from her granddaughter when she's close enough, "why don't you get yourself a cup?"

The little girl shakes her head and returns to sitting on the floor, crossed-legged.

"Nah, I'm all right. I just wants to get my story time on."

A faint laugh comes from somewhere by the Christmas tree and Brittany doesn't have to look up from the drink in her lap to be able to recognize that familiar sound. Smiling warmly, Brittany lifts her drink and takes a cautious sip of the hot liquid.

"Well what do you want to hear now?"

"Oh! Oh!" Ali exclaims from her seat in between her parents on the couch as she pushes a hand into the air, as if she's answering a question at school. She's in the middle of chewing on a big mouthful of cookie as her father reaches out to brush the crumbs off of her face.

"Finish eating before you speak dear," Jeremy reminds softly.

Ali chews and chews as everyone waits for her, until she finally swallows down dramatically before raising her hand up into the air again.

"Yes Ali?" Brittany asks.

"Tell us about mommy and daddy," she suggests and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "I wanna know what they was like when they wasn't so old."

"Hey now," Sugar interrupts, eyes wide, pretending to be offended, "I am not _that_ old."

"Mommy you've been around since before I was even born," Annabel points out cheekily, "of course you're old."

"What is this? First of all you remind me I can't sing and now you remind me of my age."

"Just keeping it real, Mom," Annabel states with a casual shrug.

_Atta girl_.

Brittany's whole body jerks so much; the cup in her hands almost goes flying. The whole family turns to her instantly, watching her stare at an empty spot besides the tree in surprise.

"Mom?" Sugar calls out curiously.

Blinking once, Brittany breathes out slowly to calm her racing heart. Every now and then, she hears Santana's voice in the rain or on a windy day but she's never heard her so clear, so _present_ before. Laughing to herself, Brittany takes another sip from her drink as a shot of adrenaline soars through her tired, old body.

"I've thought of what story to tell."

* * *

><p><em>Fifty-five years old<em>

The two of them make their way to the restaurant where they're supposed to meet with Sugar's boyfriend-of-almost-four-years Jeremy on his own, since he apparently has some 'big news' to ask them. It's pretty obvious what this can possibly be about and Santana's been looking forward to the dinner all day, periodically writing down bits of things that she can say to torment him and to make him even more nervous.

However, right now as they stand there right at the door of the restaurant, Santana pauses, out of breath and gestures for Brittany to stop for moment.

"Tired already?" Brittany teases as Santana leans onto her knees, "you're really losing your old stamina."

"I'm fine… I just-" Santana's words are halted by a painful sounding cough.

Instantly, Brittany rubs her shoulder comfortingly as Santana coughs and splutters violently.

"I think we should get that checked out," she suggests nervously, "you've had it for well over two months now."

Santana tries to reply but is wracked with pain in her chest that leaves her gasping for air.

"Now I'm really worried, Santana? Santana, sweetheart, breathe baby."

It takes a few scary minutes before Santana finally catches her breath and that sharp pain finally fades off. She coughs once more but it's lighter now and just trying to clear whatever it is from her chest.

"How are you feeling?" Brittany asks worriedly, swiping a hand over her wife's sweaty forehead.

"I'm fine I'm fine," Santana reassures comfortingly, standing back upright again.

"It's all that smoking I've been droning on about for forever."

"What?" Santana brushes a hand through the air dismissively, "I'm just not as fit as I used to be which really suck. Think I'll go out for runs in the morning again, I mean, it's been far too long since someone tried to buy me drinks."

"You're fifty-five now, love," Brittany shakes her head fondly, "and I buy you drinks all the time - coke, tea and that coconut juice you like."

"You know that's not the same and I'm a _hot_ fifty-five, thank you very much."

Santana smirks and behind the aging skin and the fatigued exterior, Brittany can still clearly see the girl she fell in love with all those years ago.

"Of course you are," Brittany brushes back Santana's hair delicately, "but we're still checking up on that cough okay? For the sake of your body health and my mind health too."

"I don't get what the big deal is but fine," Santana succumbs with a roll of her eyes, "but I promise you I won't die yet. Not before I get to make our soon-to-be son-in-law's life a living hell for a good fifteen minutes."

"Well come on then, badass mother-in-law," Brittany laughs and clasps Santana's hand firmly, tugging her through the restaurant door.

* * *

><p>"Well Johnny," Santana starts, deliberately getting his name wrong as she wipes her mouth on the napkin, "we've spent almost an hour sitting here and while that was a pretty great meal, all you've been doing is looking like you're trying your best not to pee your pants."<p>

Brittany giggles and almost sprays her mouthful of wine all over the table.

"It's true," she adds, sharing a humored look with her wife, "the bathroom's over there if you really need it."

The man in front of them turns red and sits a little straighter in his seat, obviously panicking and trying to rectify the situation. This is ridiculous; he's already met Sugar's parents before on many occasions over the course of their relationship, in fact, the first time they met, Santana had even pulled out a long list of questions from her back pocket to grill him with. If he managed to live through that, then surely there should be nothing to be so scared about.

Yet still, as Jeremy sits there opposite them, the lamp above them suddenly feeling like a bright bulb swinging in an interrogation room, Jeremy has never faced something more palm-sweating in his life. At first appearance, it seems Santana is the 'bad cop' and Brittany is the 'good cop' but he's made enough mistakes to learn to not to fall into that trap again. Santana may be the one who questions him and make him feel like he was eleven again; standing in the principal's office, but in reality Brittany is the one to look out for.

Every now and then, she'll catch him out by throwing something – actually physically throwing an object – at him to make sure he's always on the ball. She once tossed him a china plate and if he hadn't managed to catch it just in time, it would have been sent smashing to the ground. Brittany says little, scarily insightful things that surprises him and takes him aback, leaving him tongue-tied and stuttering.

Despite all of that, he knows very well that they're good people who are just looking out for their daughter. But even then, Jeremy really can't say which of Sugar's mothers, he's more terrified of.

"Oh god," Brittany groans, "it's too late. Look at his face, he's done it. He's peed himself in a public restaurant."

"No! No I haven't- I…" he stumbles before clearing his throat nervously, too aware that his face is burning heatedly, "I- I invited you two here today because I wanted- I wanted to ask you two… if I- if maybe I-"

"Well come on then Joey," Santana urges, linking her fingers together on the table as if she means business, "spit it on, son."

He freezes at the term she addresses him as.

"Santana, I think you've broken him," Brittany points out as she leans forward to wave a hand slowly in front of his shocked face.

"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have called him that. I just knew he wouldn't be able to take the implications. Oi Jesse," Santana snaps her fingers less than an inch from his nose, causing him to blink immediately and return back to reality, "the pilot of that new cop show is on in twenty-five minutes and I forgot to record it when we left the house earlier so get to the question already."

"Oh right, sorry," he apologies even though it's not really his fault.

Pausing to recollect himself, Jeremy takes a deep breath and thinks back to all the times when Sugar's parents had accidentally let their frightening exteriors down.

He isn't sure if it's a dream but he remembers spending every Saturday for a whole month with Brittany – him teaching her how to bake all the things she wants to make in the afternoons and her teaching him the basics to how to dance all the different types of genres he wants to learn after dinner.

He isn't sure if it's a prayer but he recalls having one too many beers and sitting down on a couch with Santana, spilling all of his insecurities about the future to her as she listens on patiently and even comforts him, giving him hope and more self-esteem.

With the thoughts of kind, loving parents in his head and not terrifying people who are out to get him, Jeremy releases his breath and makes equal eye contact with the both of them steadily.

"I love your daughter," he states confidently, "I've loved her for a few years now and I want the opportunity to love her for many, many years more. So I sit here in front you two as a man who wants to spend this Christmas with Sugar and the both of you. As a man who wants to spend every Christmas with Sugar and the both of you _and_ your grandchildren. I invited you both to come out to meet me today so that I can ask both of you if you will give me the chance to-"

"You want to know something Jeffrey?"

He nods, ignoring Santana's way of using the wrong name since it's close enough anyways.

"Yes?"

"When you didn't run out of the door after I pulled out that three and a half foot long list of drilling questions-"

"And when you thought I spiked your drink but you still drank all of it," Brittany chips in with a grin, "I totally did by the way, but it was only an energy tablet."

"When you did both of those things and you didn't go screaming to the police, the both of us had accepted you into our family already," Santana admits and leans back in her seat, "the rest of crazy stuff we did to you afterwards was just for fun."

Blinking in pleasant surprise, he opens his mouth but is at a loss for what to reply with.

"I would say 'welcome to the family'," Brittany starts, laughing a little already, "but firstly, we're not the mafia and like Santana said, you've already been a part of the family for ages. Instead, I'm going to say 'can you pay now please?' Because the show's about to air and I really want to see if it's as good as the TV guides says it'll be."

Jeremy's never paid for someone else's dinner more happily and willingly.

* * *

><p><em>Seventy-five years old<em>

"Aw daddy," Ali coos as she wraps her tiny arms around her father's elbow.

Jeremy's face colors up a little from the story but he coughs and tries to play off his embarrassment. Sugar laughs and runs the back of her fingers over his cheek affectionately.

"I've always wondered how you tackled asking my parents for my hand-"

"Oh my gosh, look!" Adriano exclaims, bolts to his feet and rushing over to the window, "it's snowing! It's snowing!"

He jumps on the spot and points outside where puffy snow is indeed falling from the sky. Ali squeals and scrambles over, almost kicking Annabel in the face on the way. Hand in hand, Sugar and her husband help each other up and move to stand by the window too, all of them gazing up at the dark sky and taking in how the lighting of the street lamp outside magnifies the tiny white objects floating down.

Brittany watches them for a moment, she knows that from the continuous hours of sitting down, her hip will complain if she tries to get up to join them. Not wanting to put a damper on the situation, she opts to remain in her seat, settling for peeking out through the visible parts of the window above their heads.

It takes her a second or two before she realizes that her middle grandchild (her secret favorite but she dares not to tell the other two that) is still sitting by the feet, glancing up at her with curiosity evident in her young face.

"Not going to join the others Annabel?"

"It's just snow," she points out and shakes her head, "we see it every year."

"What's up?" Brittany questions, carefully reaching down to put the now empty cup on the floor, "you look like you have something to ask."

"Grandma…" Annabel hesitates and draws her knees closer to her chest.

"Yes? You can ask me anything, you know that sweetheart."

"I just… I want to ask you… where is Abuela now? Why isn't she with us here?"

All the breath in Brittany leaves her and for a long moment, she sits there, wordless as hurt erupts in her chest, staring at a little girl who might as well have been an eight year old blonde Santana.

"Grandma?" Annabel calls out worriedly, "are you upset? I'm sorry, did I upset you?"

Brittany forces herself to take in breath after breath but although her lungs are expanding and air is flowing in and out of her nose, it still feels as if she's not breathing properly, because it's true, she hasn't breathed right for some ten years now.

"You didn't, sweetie, Grandma's just… surprised," Brittany finishes, twisting her face into what she hopes to be a reassuring smile, "why did you ask?"

"Glad I didn't upset you," the little girl lets out a sigh of relief, "well you don'ts have to tell me but I just wants to know, is all. I mean, you say I remind you of Abuela a lot and I just really wish I can meet her 'cause I really want to gets to know her more. You make her sound like someone I want to grow up to become."

"Oh honey…"

She tries to gather herself but the pure innocence gazing up back at her shyly is too much and Brittany's tears are falling freely. She swipes them away and quickly checks on the others who are luckily still too absorbed over the increasingly rapid snow outside to pay attention to the two by the Christmas tree.

_Tell her I'm proud of her… that I've always been proud of her._

"She's proud of you darling, she's so, so proud of you," Brittany relays.

"You think so?" Annabel asks, face bright and hopeful.

"I know so."

Brittany watches Annabel do a little thrilled squirm before the little girl scoots over a bit closer.

"So where's Abuela right now then?" she asks again, now excited and anticipating.

Although it's the same questions again, Brittany is just as wounded as before. Just as wounded as she is every time someone asks of Santana or mentions her in a conversation for the past ten years. Brittany doesn't answer straight away, instead scratching at her neck to try to ease that lump in her throat. She looks down at harmless eyes complete with a simple smile and Brittany knows she can't, she can't ruin this girl – this _child_ – with the harsh reality of the real world. Not yet.

Brittany always had Santana to shield her from it and although many had laughed at her and told her Santana's making her naïve and is only holding her back, Brittany never once believed them. Especially in hindsight, Brittany knows that what Santana had done has made her into an even better person – teaching her the truths of life when she was ready to learn them and not made into accepting the cruel reality that other people forced upon her before she was capable of understanding.

"Your Abuela …" Brittany falters and bites the side of her lip, "she's gone on vacation."

_For the better_, Brittany reminds herself as to why she lied to the trusting granddaughter in front of her.

"She wents without you?" Annabel asks innocently with a frown.

"No, she's… she's waiting for me," Brittany catches the shadow in her peripheral again, drawing courage from Santana's presence, "I'll meet up with her soon."

"Oh okay," the child accepts her grandma's words and nods, "will you send us photos and stuff like people do on holidays?"

"It'll be different," Brittany answers vaguely, shaking her head regretfully.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Brittany hesitates and casts her mind back to what Santana had once said to give her comfort, "I'll get back to you differently – not through calls or postcards."

"Then how, Grandma?" Annabel probes inquisitively.

"Through your heart, honey, and through the stars," placing a hand over her chest, Brittany then points upwards, "you just know that I'll be there listening whenever you want to talk to me, okay? I'll always be looking over you, sweetheart."

Annabel tilts her head in confusion for a short while, trying to process what her grandma is trying to tell her.

"Like Santa."

Brittany lets out a shaky breath and smiles.

"Yes like Santan- I mean, yes, like Santa," she corrects quickly, chuckling along with the short bark of laughter she can hear from the tree.

"So you'll knows when I'm naughty or nice and stuff?"

"Yes sweetheart."

Nodding, Brittany gestures for her to come closer and Annabel complies by moving to stand up before perching on her grandma's knee, adjusting so that she can still look at her face when they talk.

"So you'll be good to your siblings and your parents for me, sweetie, okay?" Brittany asks, holding the smaller hand securely in her own, "you'll put effort into school and when you grow older, you'll never give up on your hopes and dream, promise me Annabel?"

"Of course Grandma," Annabel agrees and sticks out her other hand, "pinky promise."

Chocking back a sob, Brittany sniffs before lifting her own to link with her granddaughter's, sealing their promise forever.

"Annabel?"

The two of them both turn their heads towards Sugar in surprise, having forgotten about everyone else. Looking around, Brittany spots her other two grandkids and their father outside in the front yard. Brittany wonders how they didn't notice them slipping out, all of them donned in thick coats and gloves as Ali starts building a snowman while Adriano and Jeremy are playfully throwing the increasingly settling snow at each other.

"Yeah mom?"

"Want to go out and play in the snow for a bit?" Sugar suggests, holding up her daughter's warm light blue coat and matching gloves.

After watching Annabel peek out the window, tempted by what looks like great fun, Brittany taps her leg encouragingly.

"I wants to build a snowman too," Annabel admits, eagerness displayed all over her face.

"Go honey," Brittany laughs.

Pressing a quick kiss on Brittany's cheek, Annabel wraps her arms around Brittany's shoulder.

"Love you Grandma," she mutters.

"Love you too," Brittany returns with a sigh, inwardly struggling with the tears that want to make an appearance again, "don't ever forget that I love you, Annabel."

Nodding, Annabel pulls back and gives her grandma a wide grin before hopping back down to the floor. Although, Brittany looks at Sugar help her middle daughter slip into the coat and fuss over her gloves, she's not really taking it in as memories of her unfinished story floods through her thoughts.

* * *

><p><em>Fifty-nine years old<em>

Cancer.

If you're born somewhere around the end of June to July then you're a Cancer.

A Cancer person is loyal, dependent and caring.

But a Cancer person is also moody, oversensitive and self-absorbed.

As she sits the living room, half able to hear Santana making phone calls to people that they haven't seen or talked in for forever over in the dining room, Brittany smiles sadly at the magazine in her hand.

Santana is loyal, dependent and caring.

But Santana is also moody, oversensitive and self-absorbed.

It baffles Brittany how accurate this little zodiac thing at the back is.

Except for one thing.

Santana's birthday is in April.

* * *

><p><em>Sixty-five years old<em>

Brittany sits, in that white uncomfortably-hard plastic chair she's grown to hate sitting in. In that white strong, antiseptic-smelling room she's grown to hate entering. In that white _damn_ hospital that Brittany's grown to hate stepping foot in, every single day.

How Brittany wishes that the doctors can just use that eye-wateringly powerful disinfectant that leaves behind this overpowering stench she just can't _fucking_ get away from, to disinfect Santana and just make her okay again.

"Brittany…"

She looks up at the weak voice and is faced with the sight of someone so frail, so sick and so _goddamn_ un-Santana-like, for a second Brittany wonders if she's sitting next to the wrong patient in the wrong bed.

"Yes?"

"Tell me…" Santana takes a few seconds to close her eyes and just breathe before she gradually opens her eyes again, "tell me what you're thinking."

Brittany's breathing hitches as she reaches out a hand, sliding it underneath Santana's and feels the other woman clutch her back feebly.

"I'm thinking," Brittany takes in a deep breath, "walking around for too long is starting to hurt my hip and I don't want a walking stick. I don't know how to record anything on the TV. I still get lost in that monster of a mall on my own. I don't know which brand of milk we normally buy. I can't do this _thing_… not without you," she adds, voice desperate and distressed.

"Do what thing, love?"

"This living thing!" Brittany shout-whispers despairingly, gripping Santana's hand tightly, "I can't okay? I just can't. I need you- I need you to translate to me what teenagers are actually talking about nowadays. I need you to remind me that that wildlife show about big cats is about to be on. I need _you_ as my walking stick."

"Hey, hey look at me-" Santana attempts faintly but the sound of heart-wrenching sobs cut her off.

"You promised forever Santana!" Brittany brings their joint hands up to her face, pressing her lips against Santana's scarily pale skin, "why are you leaving me behind?"

As her wife, her love, her _life, _breaks down by her side, Santana's mind – still functioning, still sharp – wills strength into her failing body; she wills herself to be the stronger one for the first time in six years since being diagnosed.

"I'm not, I'm not. Look at me Brittany… please," Santana pleas, waiting until she complies and taking the chance to catch her breath and to appear nowhere near as fatigued as she feels. "I'm not leaving you behind. Have I… ever done that to you when we were younger?"

Pulling out a tissue from her pocket with her spare hand, Brittany dabs at her eyes.

"Well, no you haven't but-"

"Exactly," Santana reassures and with effort, twists her features into a comforting smile, "not then, not ever… I refuse to start now."

"But…" Brittany pauses to retract both her hands so she can blow her nose, "but you're- oh god, Santana, you're going to-"

For a second, Santana's body lapses, like she's so tired she might fall asleep. But then, the moment passes and it leaves her with an adrenaline rush, frightening her into consciousness. She tries to distract Brittany from the increased beeps of the monitoring machine on the other side of the bed, by lifting a hand up. Seeing it, Brittany immediately shoves her dirty tissue back into her pocket and clutches at Santana's hand anxiously.

"Listen to me Britt… you remember this, all right? I'm not leaving you; I'm just…" Santana falters and she's not sure if it's because she's trying to think of something or that slumber that's always lurking in the corner is trying to lure her in, "…going ahead first. Like checking out a new restaurant to see… what it's like before you come and join me."

There's a pause where Brittany simply stares at Santana while she tries to lie there and look as brave as she can appear to be, for the sake of the one thing that really gave her life in the first place.

"Yeah?" Brittany asks, so hopelessly scrambling to believe _anything_ that will make Santana's de- Santana's- _this thing_ feel more bearable.

"Absolutely," Santana confirms and nods in what she hopes to be a confident and certain nod.

"And you'll come get me?" Brittany demands. "When you think it's a good restaurant with really nice food, you'll come and get me?"

"Yes, Brittany, I promise."

With her little finger, Santana pokes at Brittany's hand until she gets the hint and wraps their pinkies together tightly, both of them drawing strength and courage from each other.

"Okay… okay good," Brittany thinks about it for a moment before nodding affirmatively, "yeah, I can deal with that – when though?"

"I…" Santana blinks in surprise, "I don't know."

"Will it be soon?" Brittany begs, reaching out with her other hand to brush back Santana's coarse and slightly matted hair, "because every day that I'm stuck here still will be a day too much. Please tell me it'll be soon."

"Don't… say things like that Britt," Santana advises with a small shake of her head, "you have to stay strong and you have to be here… Sugar will give birth in half a year and you have to… look after lil' Adriano because our Sugar is a mess… with kids."

Brittany laughs but the feeling doesn't leave her light-hearted and free like it normally does.

"Nice try love, but you're not leaving all the dirty work for me," Brittany teases, trying to laugh again because even though it doesn't give her any release, she knows that if she stops, the tears will return, "you already got to do the fun part of choosing names for about twenty more grandkids to follow so I think you'll definitely have to be on diaper duty twice as much as me."

Santana rolls her eyes and Brittany looks past the effort and strain for her to do so, to see the lively, determined Santana behind this sick, fragile shell.

"Please, I'll be… the cool Abuela who spoils them rotton," Santana boasts.

They grin at each other and for a moment, Brittany can almost imagine their shared future together. Bouncing grandchildren on their knees together, chasing around little toddlers together, watching them go to their first prom together… but then, the beeping sound drags her back to where they are. The doctor's words – the doctor's _time limit_ – come back to her as Brittany subconsciously holds their intertwined pinkies closer.

"Hey," Santana speaks out, noticing the smile slipping on her face, "I'll… give you hints okay? You'll know when I'm coming. When it's… the right time, you'll know."

Brittany nods wordlessly, glancing warmly at the brave, brave woman in front of her.

"Okay. It'll definitely be you who comes to get me right Santana? Just you?"

"Of course Brittany," Santana smiles supportively, "just you and me."

Nodding again, Brittany lifts her other hand and offers it to Santana.

"Hand in hand all the way?"

Willing for her hand not to quiver, Santana reaches up and laces their fingers together, moving the connected hands closer so she can press a kiss on Brittany's knuckle.

"Hand in hand all the way."

* * *

><p><em>Seventy-five years old<em>

After letting Annabel out to the front yard, Sugar decides not to go out yet, wanting to wash the used cups before they dry and while they're still easy to clean. She moves about the living room, brushing up bits of crumbs and picking up all the discarded cups back onto the tray.

Looking over at her mom, Sugar finds Brittany asleep, the small smile gracing her lips giving away the fact that she's obviously dreaming of something pleasant. Quietly, Sugar walks over to kiss her mom lightly on the forehead before retrieving the cup at the side of the armchair. Gathering everything back onto the tray, Sugar carefully returns to the kitchen, humming to herself out of tune.

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

Stirring at the voice, Brittany's mind is already jumping in joy as to who the owner of the voice is before her eyes can even open and register the person leaning over her with a smirk on their face.

Brittany blinks once, twice, three times and rubs her eyes for good measure, yet Santana still stands there right in front of her unwaveringly.

"Hi," Brittany blurts back, scrunching her nose in a big grin, not caring how lame she totally sounds.

Immediately she reaches out a hand, offering it to Santana because she's spent ten years not touching her and Brittany really can't go another fraction of a second without Santana's physical presence again. Glancing down at the hand, Santana chuckles to herself before sliding her own into it, lacing their fingers together securely.

Brittany practically dies from the feel of Santana being here. 'Here' in the sense of Brittany able to physically touch her and hold her and never, _ever_ let her go again. Ever.

"Come on Britt, up you get."

Santana tugs her upwards with so much force, the blanket goes flying and Brittany collides with her body. Upon impact, Brittany molds herself around Santana instantly, burrowing her face into her thick, beautiful hair and inhaling that sweet, unique Santana scent that Brittany only ever allows herself to smell once a year around Santana's birthday, off of one of her old shirts that Brittany hides in a box in the back of the closet to encase and trap the scent forever.

She wraps her arms around Santana's shoulders, feeling the other girl do the same around her waist tightly. Brittany knows she should be scared as to why she can feel Santana so solidly, so _real_ because of what it means, but Brittany doesn't care. She waited and waited and waited some more for Santana to return and she won't ever wait for another minute again.

"Santana?" She mutters out; whole face still pushing into the side of Santana's head.

"Yeah?"

"Isn't this a bit weird for you? I mean," reluctantly, Brittany leans back just enough for them to be able to look at each other while she keeps her arms around Santana's neck, "I mean you're…"

Finding the suitable word, Brittany trails her eyes all over Santana's face and chest only, seeing as their lower halves are connected too tightly to be able to see Santana's legs.

The sight in front of Brittany is nothing like the sight she had seen last ten years ago. This Santana looks like the Santana that keeps cropping up every now and then – wavy black hair, bag-less eyes, a look of strength, maturity and determination and full red lips that make Brittany's mind go blank as she leans forward to catch them in her own.

She shudders instantly at the taste. On the surface, it's because she feels a shot of desire shiver through her body that she hasn't felt for absolutely years as they kiss more passionately, but beneath that, Brittany trembles because of the pure _Santana-ness_ that is this Santana she's heatedly making out with.

It's weird if Brittany thinks about it because even though she hasn't taken one peak out of the window or into the kitchen, she somehow knows that there's no one else here – just her and Santana. Regardless of that, the fact that they're standing there in their daughter and son-in-law's living room, making out like teenagers and Santana is sneaking her hands underneath her top makes Brittany giggle despite herself, effectively cutting the kiss short.

"Brittany," Santana whines, trying to draw her back in but it's too late, Brittany's been taken over by wracks of giggles and the intense moment passes… for now.

"I'm sorry, it's just," she shakes her head good-naturedly, "it's just you look so-"

"Hot?" Santana finishes with a wink as she spins around slowly on the spot for Brittany to appreciate.

"You always do babe," Brittany smiles fondly, "but you look like you're in your twenties again. Like post-wedding but pre-Sugar twenties – you're even wearing that leather jacket that you wore all the time."

Peaking down at her own jacket, Santana clutches the collar and pouts.

"But I love this jacket."

"Oh me too, totally, but like, isn't this weird? You looking so young and I'm halfway through my seventies?"

Silence falls before Santana blinks and grins widely.

"Don't you feel different Britt? Your hip isn't hurting, you're speaking like you used to when we were younger again and hell, surely you've noticed your voice is a lot different too. Take a look at your hands."

Frowning lightly in confusion, Brittany lifts her hands and glances down at them. The visual of them – wrinkle-free and full of color – surprises her so much, she takes a step back and glances down at the rest of her body and noticing that she's wearing tight jeans and a loose yellow sweater all of a sudden.

"Wait, wha…?" she clenches her fist a few times, feeling how firm her grip is, "Santana, I don't get it."

Laughing to herself, Santana takes Brittany by the hand lightly and leads her to the bathroom. She opens the door and switches on the light before stepping back to allow Brittany in first.

"Go on," she urges with a jerk of her head, "see for yourself in the mirror."

Trusting Santana's every word, Brittany does exactly that. She gasps when instead of being faced with loose skin, tired eyes and a hunched back, she stands in front of the reflection of a twenty-something herself – eyes bright and blue, hair bouncy and soft-looking, skin fresh and unblemished.

"Oh my god," she gasps disbelievingly, inspecting herself as Santana takes a seat on top of the lidded toilet and simply watches her.

"'Oh my god' is right, girl, I've been _oh my god-ing _for forever just looking at you," Santana confesses as she fiddles with a few strands of her hair.

"But Santana look!"

Brittany pirouettes on the spot perfectly, without a hitch or pain in her hip.

"Beautiful," Santana comments absent-mindedly as she watches the excited girl in front of her.

"Come on, you know I haven't been able to do that for so long. This is so cool!"

Having spent long enough away from her, Santana stands back up and stands in front of Brittany, wrapping thin, pale arms around her own torso securely before she rests her own hands on top of Brittany's where they clasped tightly on her firm torso.

"We're perfect," Brittany whispers at Santana, making eye contact through the mirror.

"We really are," she agrees wholeheartedly. From day one they've stayed perfect for each other.

"I wish you could meet the grandkids," Brittany admits and kisses the side of Santana's neck, "and you have no idea how much Sugar would love to just see you again, Jeremy too."

"I know," Santana sighs softly and it's the first time that there's a slight hint of sadness of the inevitable since Brittany woke up from her memories, "but I guess I have sort of met all the kids. You know I've been hanging around with you for a while now-"

"Just like you promised," Brittany adds with a grin.

"Just like I promised and I did get a chance to meet all of them. Ali is so full of life, Adriano is smart and Annabel? Well, there's a mini-me if I've ever seen one."

"You have no idea how much," Brittany concurs, chuckling and leaning down a little to rest her chin on Santana's shoulder.

"I miss Sugar every day too but look at her, how amazingly she's grown up and I couldn't be more proud of what she's achieved- achieving," Santana exhales noisily and presses back to cuddle with Brittany closer, "Her and Jeremy have each other and they'll make it through everything life throws their way, I can feel it."

"Me too."

A minute of silent goodbyes and sadness passes before Brittany takes a deep breath and tries to switch her mind to looking forward, rather than behind.

"So what now Santana?"

The truth is, she's followed Santana everywhere in her life and she'll continue to follow Santana anywhere in her now non-life life or whatever it is that she is in because although Brittany recognizes what must have happened for her to be able to be with Santana like this again, Brittany really hasn't felt so energetic, so hopeful, so _living_ in a very, very long time.

"I'm sort of hungry," Santana comments with a shrug, "want to go to that restaurant I've been checking out?"

"Totally," Brittany nods and turns her hands around so that they can link both of their hands together tightly, "this has got to be the best Christmas ever."

"Isn't it just?"

Santana laughs and tilts her head back to kiss Brittany on the lips.

"Oh, I have one more thing to say before we head off," Brittany states.

"Yeah?"

Lifting an eyebrow curiously, Santana watches Brittany crinkle her nose as a look of teasing takes over her features.

"First off: I told you so," Brittany teases.

Santana rolls her eyes good-naturedly but waits for Brittany to continue.

"And secondly, you spent like, ten years checking out this restaurant," Brittany points out with a grin, "if it isn't the second best meal – yes, the first being you of course – I've ever had, I'm holding you responsible for forever, all right?"

Unable to resist, Santana leans in for another short but loving kiss, squeezing Brittany's hands tightly.

"Fine by me."

* * *

><p><em>...Through the good and the bad and the ugly...<em>  
><em>...We'll grow old together, and always remember...<em>  
><em>...Whether rich or for poor or for better...<em>  
><em>...We'll still love each other, forever and always...<em>

* * *

><p>Hope you liked it!<p>

This was just something short as a break from the other muti-chapter fics I'm currently writing, so if you're interested in any of stuff/future stuff, head towards my profile! /shameless self-promoting.

I am quite literally posting this up just as I finished so it's not proof-read properly nor beta-ed so apologies for any mistakes.

Reviews/comments very, very, very much appreciated :) Happy New Year Everyone!


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